


Tokyo

by mustdefine



Category: Gymnastics RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 13:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustdefine/pseuds/mustdefine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Worlds 2011, after the all-around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tokyo

The room is mostly dark, bathed intermittently in neon. Aliya eases the door shut and leans against it. Her eyes follow the trail of discarded bags and shoes to the bed. A small figure is curled on top of the covers. Asleep, to the casual observer’s eye, but Aliya knows better.

She comes to sit on the edge of the bed next to the unmoving girl and looks out the window. Tokyo flickers outside, knife-edged and lurid. She rubs her knee. Too much activity in the last few days. Chalking the bars, moving springboards, fetching water, anything she could do to be helpful during training. Last year’s world champion, now a glorified coach. But Aliya hasn’t spared much thought for herself; all her hopes and well-wishes have been pinned on her teammates, and one in particular.

Vika sniffles. “Alka,” she whispers.

Aliya’s heart wrenches. “I’m here, love.”

Vika sits up and pulls her legs around to clear Aliya’s hip. Lurid red illuminates the tear trails on her face. “Tell me this didn’t happen,” she says.

Aliya reaches over to wipe the tears away. A silver medal glints on the floor near Aliya’s feet. She puts an arm around Vika’s narrow shoulders, pulls her close. Vika rests her head on Aliya’s shoulder and Aliya strokes her hair gently, wordlessly. Neither of them say anything else. What is there to say? Wieber was overscored on floor and beam? Of course she was. But there was nothing to be done, or at least nothing Aliya could do, helpless in the stands and howling inside. A .033 margin, an American on top of the podium, and now the best gymnast in the world is crying into Aliya’s jacket.

If she had the power to change the fabric of reality for her girlfriend, she would. This is beyond fucked up. She knows, she  _knows_  with every bone in her body that Vika should have won the all-around. To have Aliya’s title slip through her fingers must be bitter to Vika for so many reasons.  _For us_ , Vika had said, just days ago, her hand on Aliya’s bare knee.

Aliya runs a hand over Vika’s hair again. Vika sighs against her. “Will you stay tonight?” she asks. “Yulia won’t care.”

Aliya kisses the crown of her head in answer. They lay down together, Vika nestling into her body with the ease of long familiarity, and Aliya holds her until  her breathing becomes slow and regular. 

_London,_  she thinks. _You’ll be the best in the world then, not just to me but to everyone_. She falls asleep to that certainty and dreams of Vika’s medals flashing neon bright. Nine months until Olympic glory.


End file.
